


As It Goes

by SyffyLeafy



Category: Strange Magic - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Multi, UA, Universe Alternative, WhatIfs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyffyLeafy/pseuds/SyffyLeafy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-She heard the dungeon was awfully nice this time of year, and awful wasnt the only word to describe it or the people who unceremonsiously tossed her in.-</p>
<p>What-If senario that popped into being one day and continued to fester untill I caved and wrote the damn thing. Basically the alternative to what went down in the throne room ; Bog stopping Roland from using the Love Potion prematurely.))</p>
<p>Multichaptered, with some regular ( hopefully) updates.<br/>((Also, fair warning that this will follow the movies example. Meaning there will be jukebox music numbers thrown in for the hell of it. ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Birds One Stone, What Pesky Things

Imagine if you will that you get to do something differently.

Decide to go to that party, buy that book, say yes to someone who gives an offer you later regret refusing.

Let’s go deeper; what if you could go back and change something in your past so that the outcome was different, because you believe it was the right thing.

Because you look back and think yourself foolish for not knowing - not reacting the right way-, for not jumping in when the situation needed it.

It’s such a small thing. But what if by doing that, doing the right thing at the right time… You changed nothing?

Or, everything changed. But the outcomewould always and inevitably be the same?

-

"Of course I’ll be taking _both_ princesses’.”

“That wasn’t the deal!”

The fire in the Bog King’s eyes flared for a second before they flitted to the restrained fairy; the ferocity was enough to end any further arguments from the knight.

Though it did not stop him from approaching closer, or his hand from uncorking the Potion’s flask.

The Love Potion was a powerful thing. And -safe for himself- Bog had seen it breach as far as different species and race with its potency. With one clear throw at the immobile woman she would be unable to resist its effects.

All these things the Bog King noticed simultaneously, and these were the things that send his staff hard against Roland’s shiny breastplate, bringing him to a full halt.

It brought the man’s attention from Marianne, who it appeared to be where he had headed for to the goblin that held him at scepter’s point. “And what, pray, do you think you’re doing with that?”

It barely took any strength to swing the heavy staff around and so it wasn’t even all that difficult to grind the gnarled head into the armor to elect a whiny dull shriek, the material protesting even at a little manhandling.

Both the noise and his question sent a visible shudder down the other’s back, his smirk once cocky and self assured, dwindled into a meek ghost of its former glory.

“I…uh, nothin’. Nothin’ of course. Just wanted to give it to you, just how we agreed. In exchange for the princesses…sses…” His awkward laugh sounded false and equal parts suspicion and apprehension rose up as he quickly slapped the cork back onto the neck.

You didn’t need to be a fool to know what the man’s intentions were, and the Bog King was neither young nor as foolish as he’d once been. Given the man’s track history didn’t brighten his opinion any, as the two glared on from their respected positions.

The air thick with a tension neither wanted to be the first to break, the surrounding spectators holding their breath to see who would make the first move.

Unfortunately for some, a fight was not on today’s menu. A small commotion shattered the silence, and Stuff came waddling in at full tilt, going so fast she looked in danger of falling over her own feet.

“Sire! Sire! “ The gob couldn’t stop in time to prevent colliding with the sovereign’s ankle, jumping away before any punishing blows could fall.

”-Intruders! In the castle, sire!”

He’d already noticed that, and Bog scoffed. It wasn’t exactly hard to forget the sight of a horde of fae at his doorstep, awaiting orders from their captain.

Speaking of…The once confident knight wilted at the declaration and as one they turned to the direction the gasping servant had come.

Brutus, along with another snaggle’ toothed guard, stomped into view not a step – and maybe a few kicks - behind Thang. Carting three identical armored fae who, no doubt, had seen better days. One was even so worse for wear his brothers had to carry him. It was either that or being ‘carried ‘by Brutus, who sneered none too friendly as he shoved the unfortunate lot before their King.

"Friends of yours? “ Bog jeered, turning back to a not even attempting at guiltless smiling Roland.

“F-friends? Them? No, no…they’re more like…acquaintances…men of kin…old saloon buddies…”

"Roland! You sorry piece of- “

Marianne didn’t get the chance to call him whatever as one beaky guard piped up “They were snooping around and opening the cages sire –“ They looked very unable to do that anymore in fact, and by the look of their suits didn’t want to try again.- “We caught them, and their lil’ friend before any could escape.”

A tussled-up, fussing and cussing Sunny was thrown against the triplets backsides.

“D-Dawn! Marianne, oh are you alright I’m sorry I didn’t-“

Ah yes. The ‘small Elf in the Dark Forest ‘. Slippery little devil indeed. Somehow it just didn’t add up how such a generally ‘light hearted ’fae could think up something as deceitful as using the Love Potion on someone.

Then again…Evil could take root anywhere.

“Are the others still in the dungeon?”

A chorus of yes’s answered him, broken only by the small elf’s pitiful cry when the elf finally caught sight of Dawn, who was wrapped around Bog.

Going from her expression it was the happiest place to be glued to and any attempt to dissuade her failed – no matter how valiantly you tried.

Too deep in the Love Potion’s hold to be brought to her senses – whether unaware or uncaring – to even notice the ongoing commotion around her, Dawn only squeezed her arms tighter around the goblin king.

“That…”Roland made a gagging sound, looking greener than his suit, “-is STILL pretty disgusting.”

Bog gave the knight an equally disgusted sidelong glare, taking his hand off her shoulder to hold out before him, curling his fingers like the greedy claws of carrion.

“A princess for the potion.”

"Correction, the potion for the princess…es…ss…” Once again Roland’s perfectly perfect voice withered under the king’s perfectly horrid glare, for both he and the rapidly growing audience confirmed he should be wise to keep his arguments to himself.

Goblins all around began to appear like summoned out of thin air, creeping around corners and dangling from heights and niches usually impossible to achieve for flightless creatures. Everywhere you looked were the red and silver gleam of eyes, severly outnumbering the fairy knight and his small group.

With a sick jolt Roland realized they wouldn’t even hear him if he bellowed from the top of his lungs.

Goblins around him guffawed loudly. The ball was in his court now and everyone with half a brain knew it.

"P-perhaps we can re-negotiate here. “ He stammered, motioning with a hand towards his equally subdued ex. “Right? Marianne, darling help me out here. Talk some sense into your boyfriend, will ya?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

"I’m not her boyfriend!”

The two royals proclaimed simultaneously, locking eyes briefly before bristling as they turned away. The very idea!

"Well you’re obliviously something, but listen. Buggy-“  

"Boggy.” Dawn corrected.  

"BOG KING!!!”

"Err…right. Bog…King. “The fairy sounded doubtful of the title. He didn’t even look all that regal. What with that staff…and those, things on his head…like a crown of bracken.

Shifting uneasily under the scepter -still as he might hold himself, even a small motion like that made the metal grind into his armor to prevent it-, Roland knew that taking even a step would damage more than just the cuirass.

"Look I know we're all pretty civilized people here, we can figure out this little...mishap in two snaps. Guaranteed, no trouble at all."

Thrumming his wings in agitation, Bog snarled under his breath, cracking his digits in anticipation for the potion. His patience was thinning and this blundering idiot was trying to stall and be diplomatic with barely veiled stupidity. It did nothing but fuel his anger.

He jerked his head to the side with practiced force, the following pops and cracks effectively silencing Roland, who winced when the echoes bounced off the walls.

“It looks like we’re at a stand-still then. There’s only one potion and I see _two_ princesses’ I’ve been tasked to rescue.”

"As I’ve told you before, sir KNIGHT, this one’s safe return wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Are you serious?!”

Bog glowered down at Marianne at her outburst, but surprisingly didn’t comment on it. Simply extending his hand out further he silently commanded Roland to make the exchange and be done with it.

"Bog, listen to me.”

"Be quiet Marianne.”

"But you can’t just-“

"I said BE QUIET!”

"Dawn I’m so sorry-“

-“Now hold on, let’s do some math here-“Growling in frustration the bog king considered just running the idiot through because once again he was stretching time, the longer these imbeciles lingered the harder it became to keep up this farce. It didnt help any that everyone kept talking over and through each other.

"I see two princesses and only one potion. Now how did that happen?”

"I took one hostage for the potion; rest assured you’ll get her once I get the potion.”

“But-“

-“QUIET! “

"Boggy? Why're you yelling at Roland, sugar pie?”

Dawn’s small question threatened a few of his subjects into giggling; one gesture from him had them cowering and shut up. Despite his fierce expression, his voice held little to no real malice when he spoke to her.

“Nothing you need to worry about, my princess. “

"Dawn, get away from him he’s no good- That’s the **Bog** **King** he’s- “ –

"Don’t you dare talk like that about my Kingie Wingy!”

The room cooled at the younger princess’ tone, her sweet face crumbled in a mockery of anger. Her expression soured further at the silence that followed, propping a fist on the swell of her hip and glaring – actually more like a very warm squint – at her once ‘best’ friend.

"I've finally found my true love! I can’t believe you – I thought we were friends - aren’t you happy for me Sunny? “

"-I, but the potion, it’s not real-“

"So that’s the truth then?” Sunny gulped and took a great interest in the ground. His hands clenched uselessly and empty. If he looked up now he would see that every pair of eyes was trained on him. Man, talk about belittling.

How stupid could he have been to listen to _Roland_ for romantic advice? To fall for those excuses and to be further humiliated by his people when he tried to explain the _whys_ and _because’s_. Had he been paying attention he would’ve seen the very tyrant that banned the magic-in-a-bottle wilt slightly before becoming a pricklier, harder version.

In effect, Marianne was looking at him with the saddest expression, but it was lost to his notice and nothing compared to the utter disgust and skin-crawling hating glare of the Bog King.

“I –I thought I wanted to but- “

“I suspect you’re proud of yourself?”

“NO! – I didn’t want to but Roland he- he got into my head I swear it.” He directed the last to the elder sister, looking centuries older for the guilt that poured off him in waves.

"I thought it was the answer, an easy way, a shortcut! But…I ended up bringing the both of you in danger. I …I didn’t mean to cause this much-“

-“Chaos? Disorder? “ The goblin king’s relentless snarls send him deeper into himself, wanting to disappear into the ground to escape the collective disapproval aimed at his head.

"I didn’t mean-”

"Safe it, I’m done discussing this. The Potion. Now.” Finding himself at the centre of attention (on a normal day would delight him, but today was totally not a good day) Roland blinked owlishly and made a face, almost impressively goblin-like in its disgust.

"You know I can just take them from you by force? Got a pretty impressive army waiting outside, nice perk for captain of the guard and _future_ ruler, don’t you think?”

The sudden removal of the staff made Roland stumble on his last words, gaping at the hair fine scratches crisscrossing his breastplate before looking up at the sound of someone’s shocked gasp.

The goblin king was busy prying off one princess but he had clearly thought of another way of convincing him to agree and leave.

By using Marianne.

Brandishing his staff at her delicate throat Bog cracked a truly terrifying smile.

"If you even think about it, you’ll have her head returned instead. I’d like to see you try and explain her death to her father with blood on your hands, oh so chivalrous knight.”

Could it get any worse?, Marianne thought, trying to hold very still as the sharper edges of the decorative staff dug into her skin, pressing on her pulse and making it hard to breath properly.

Dawn’s soft noises of protest rose steadily into loud whimpers, finally outright sobbing when he wretched her arms open and held her at a distance. He honestly tried to be gentle with the claws, but she was stubborn.

"No no Boggy-please-”

-"Quiet, this is for your own good. Well? “

It almost looked like he wanted to press on, test his luck against the goblin’s hunger for murder. Could he get to her fast enough?

"I’d best decide quickly, for I fear my arm is getting very tired.”

Marianne’s sharp yelp brought his attention to the small drop of blood tickling down the woman’s neck. Bog was the only one smiling, and it was a terrible smirk filled with black promises. Oh yes, oh _yes_ indeed I am evil. Want to see just how **evil** I can be?

"And we wouldn’t want any needless bloodshed, now would we?”

Fight decided, Roland yielded.

“No, we wouldn’t.” Quick as a whip the staff swung round, knocking the flask out of his grip and landing not a moment later in his own.

“Good.” He basically threw the struggling Dawn in his direction, backing away from the reaching hands like they promised pain.

"Now I suggest you take that army of yours and march right back from where you came from, least I make an example out of your dear princess here.”

Swinging the staff back towards Marianne where he let it hover over her head like the proverbial guillotine.

"Boggy, please.-“

Dawn was in hysterics, reaching for her ‘love‘ without getting any closer. The knight had trouble keeping a firm grip on her as she fought against his hold. Being embraced by anyone other than her sweet Boggy felt _wrong_ and she didn’t like it.

“-please, please let me go-I’ll be good - I won’t sing anymore, I’ll be quiet-   _why_ , Boggy, don’t let them take me- “

The rest of her pleas were lost under her body wracking sobs.

“Listen here Buggy; it doesn’t look like she wanna leave…perhaps-?”

Roland was interrupted by the vicious snarl from the bog king; he wasn’t bluffing.

“Get. Out.”

He did an impressive display of trust ( or plain idiocy) by turning his back to the goblin, his arms clamped around Dawn with her wings pinned to her back so she wouldn’t try and fly off. The one time she needed to be strong and it did nothing.

Before walking out of sight with the triplets and a helpless, albeit distraught, Sunny the blond knight too one last look over his shoulder. He was too far to make out his expression, but Marianne could hear the sly, charismatic smile in his voice as he called out.

”Don’t worry darling, I’ll think of something. You can bet your kingdom on it.”

‘Oh my stars’, she thought wryly, watching with mutely glee as one small goblin with a beak kicked a bronze triplet‘s behind to get them going. Things definitely got worse, alright. And if her gut was right any sort of plans Roland had festering in the last remaining brain cels they wouldn’t be able to put a positive spin on the mess she sat in now.

Everything was so messed up. And in such a short amount of time, too. Underneath the swirling confusion of her emotions Marianne knew there was an explanation, an out. Anything really to make sense of what just transpired.

She wracked her brain to find the answer, to pinpoint just exactly when it had all gone horribly wrong. The solution kept eluding her, slipping through her grip like the Bog King slowly slipping out of reach.

Emotions are traps. Fear, confusion and grief were feelings she linked with _weak_ , any sign of being not strong, not hard enough to do what needed to be done was not who she was. Marianne didn’t _do_ defenseless. She didn’t act like a damsel that needed rescuing.

Let the entire kingdom do and be what they wanted; she was never going to be what was expected from her. And she certainly wasn’t going to be kept against her will as live bait.

Bog should consider himself a lucky goblin; if she wasn’t being held back by the burly toad goblins she would have punched him –again – for even believing a word Roland had hissed in falsehood.

Maybe a few more to be on the safe side.

“What…in the name of the God’s do you think you’re DOING?!!!” In the face of her fury he replied like the conversation bored him to no end. “Ensuring compliance from the Fairy Kingdom, obliviously.” Scoffing , she retaliated.

“By taking ME prisoner now?” For that he gave an extremely brittle smirk that was more a grimace, his shoulders hunched like a century old tree that saw too many battering winds “A thing or two you’ll one day learn highness. Is that when opportunity rises, the strong will take it.”

“This isn’t like you!”

“As if you would know better than everyone else. For all you know I’m acting perfectly within expectations.” Her answering retort died down to a squeak. He was being exactly who she ‘thought’ he was all her life.

Growing up hearing all about the mighty terrifying **Bog King** and his terrible deeds were just stories and nonsense she blindly believed, reforming into the want to change them. Even as young as she was the strong desire to _align_ and join their respected Kingdoms were based on the belief that not all stories had to be true. The prejudices’ hadn’t been challenged for years, keeping fast to the stereotype that _all_ Goblins were evil, that _everything_ about the Dark Forest was wild and beastly and dangerous.

It was utter nonsense and she had known ever since their flight ( hells, even during the spar there were instances that made her doubt all but swell in a confusing plethora of old views and personal beliefs)

“But…you’re not…because you’re…”

“I’m not ‘what’? “ He leered, bending down further into her face.

And although she searched for any sign of that gentleness, any remaining sliver of the emotions his eyes were bound to betray there was nothing but the treachery he held against her.

She wrenched her head away, refusing to look at him as her anger flared up not only at his betrayal ( so much like Roland, but _nothing_ like him too ) but the emotions battling away inside her chest like a flock of vicious wasps.

‘Had nothing been real? ‘Marianne had never wished for much in her life. Small favors and whims, sure. But now she was torn in two, longing to go back to what they were, what they were becoming in one short night. And wishing she’d seen earlier how it was all a fluke, nothing but illusions and falsehoods.

Like the love potion in his blasted claws…and how Dawn was most likely being torn apart.

Said flask was thrown up and down in a restless juggle; the liquid sloshing dangerously loud. His expression turned thoughtful, staring at the flask in quiet wonder.

“I just…thought you were more. “

From the corner of her eye she spied a flicker of it, that softness. By the time she spun around to glare and growled it had died like the last _flihp_ of a candle.

“Guess I was wrong.”

Another beat and Bog turned his own back to her.

“Take her to the dungeon.”

“Hey- wait a minute- You can’t just stuff me away-“

“I can and I will, princess.”

“BOG, you listen to me this is POINTLESS! What good comes off – “

\- “QUIET! “

-“Sire? –d’you need any help?-“

Ever find yourself in a situation where it’s totally inappropriate to giggle in the face of immediate danger? Well,…

_“No.”_

For a small moment she was back at the elf’s festival – restrained by smelly creatures with fangs and claws, looking on with dismay as her sister was stuffed in a burlap like she wasn’t but a pile of acorns. Where under bright lights the bog king challenged and threatened her in a gnashing snarling voice, much the same like he was using now. Remembering how ugly he was, the raw fury when he mocked her.

It was all switched around now, but the familiar taste of anger sat on the back of her tongue, waiting for her to slip and be as pricklier as his face. To grow thorns and cleave off flesh with her very words. To have the same control she lacked back then to be taken from her again. And to be unable to do anything about it.

Unless.

Hadn’t they done this already? Danced around the pain of past wrongs, looked into each other and seen not only a reflection, but also a kinship. It had frightened her at first. To see the same betrayal mirrored in his blue-as-morning-sky eyes. They were both beings hardened by hurt, armored to the teeth against it. And both terrified of the gentleness hiding behind their walls.

“…Bog…Please, listen...”

Like she knew he would, of course he would! , his frame flinched away from the softly spoken request. Kindness hurt more than fury.

“I’ve listened enough. Take her away, and lock her in the dungeon!”

-“O-Okay BK..- “

As she was dragged away she had stolen glimpses of how he held himself. How he walked to the boney throne like he was walking through a thick mud. How the mighty Bog King, who snarled and growled and who’d kill to safe his own hide and protect his kingdom, slumped down on the throne and-

They rounded the corner next, the goblins grip on her forearms near to bruising. She barely resisted their manhandling, quietly stepping when they didn’t half lug her forward.

Quietly, Marianne mused how in the seven hells she was going to break through this.

When the bars slammed down behind her, she was already thinking of escape; she’d seen windows, small niches that were more likely made because of age in the rotten stump.

If she found a good solid rock to work away the wood...

It would be long and grueling, not to mention time consuming. Settling down on a mushroom, Marianne took a deep breath to ease into herself once. Better, not alright. But getting there. With a glance towards the ceiling – to the throne room, that echoing chamber so perfect for a spar, hollowed and gnarled to hold any nightmarish court – she settled down to wait.


	2. Find the Deepest hole in the deepest pit, and put me in it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendship is 4-ever and what not to do in a courtroom. More at 7.

As the moon lowered through the canopy, weak sunlight painted the landscape in a light that changed periodically; from deepest blacks and blue to grey and watery pastels. Foot paths that were near invisible by moonlight seemed to appear right in front of his eyes.

Of course the denizens of the forest knew these winding trails by heart; they didn’t need much light to see where they traveled. One by one the lanterns were doused, leaving nothing but the approaching dawn to light the Dark Forest. Soon the sunrise would breach, they were nearly at the border anyway.

Sunny wasn’t really thinking of any of this, instead getting lost in the endless looping thoughts, spiraling down and down into one dreadful truth that whispered incessantly in his ears, ‘I can’t fix this ‘.

Slowly the entourage marched on, the rescued princess tucked safely in place with a series of vines with a thick blanket thrown over her to starve off the pre-dawn chill.

Dawn hadn’t stopped crying since they left the castle at their backs, keening and sobbing in a wretched way that made his ears want to curl up and leave him deaf.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

This wasn’t what he wanted!

And yet… This was all happening, this was the result of his careless actions. To make it all even worse, he had no clue how to fix this. Or if it could even be fixed at this point.

The first thing Roland had ordered his remaining soldiers to do was take Sunny into custody.

Pulled from a saddle of his squirrel steed, a pair of chain linked cuffs were clamped in place around his wrists. With his hands and ankles locked firmly together and strung along by a bit of chain, Sunny was helpless to do anything but follow the slow, arduous march back into the Fairy Kingdom.

It was funny, Sunny mused, and ironic how despairing the gesture was. Only he honestly didn't understand why Roland bothered in arresting him when there seemed to be no need for it in the first place. Where else did he have to go at this point?

He couldn't very well disappear on a whim, especially not when he had so much to make up for and very little time to do it.

“Hey…Sunny?”

  
Pare had leapt down from Lizzie’s back so they could converse easier. The poor reptile was keeping pace with the jerking, tripping walk Sunny had to keep. If it was up to her, he would’ve been nestled cozily on her back.

“What is it?”

“I think…er…I don’t think this is going to end well.”

“I know…S’all my fault too.”

“Hey-“A gentle fist bumped into his shoulder, so Sunny looked up from his feet. His friend glanced between the front of the rescue party and back to his friend a couple times, making sure that they weren’t being eavesdropped before he spoke, “- I never said it wasn’t…though it kind of was in a way…but you can’t think that this is right, right?”

“Roland seems to think it.” He lifted up his hands and shook the rattling cuffs. They had been tightened to the point of pain, and every jerk and tug rubbed the skin raw.

“We’re going to figure it out, okay little buddy?” That at least teased a smile out of him. Good old Pare, maybe not always with him, but when he was he stuck like tree sap.

“I’ll fix it…somehow.”

His eyes lifted back towards Dawn, whose’ sniffles grew ragged the more distance they put between them and the Dark Forest, squirming under her blankets to constantly look over her shoulder, "I want to stay with Boggy... My amazing Kingy Wingy. Why can't I stay with him? Please, let me stay with him. Please-"

Sunny felt his chest tighten in a sudden pang of pain. How he wished he could reach out and comfort her like he had in the good ole days. Before…well, before all of this.

Even if he was standing next to her, Sunny wouldn’t be able to utter a word of comfort over the stumbling of his tongue. No idea to calm the incoherent strings of pleads she kept making, so out of his depth that his usual pile of ‘things-that-will-Sooth-Dawn’ was just a useless jumble of empty promises and petty distractions.

There were only so many ways you could twist ‘Sorry for forcing you to fall in love with some dark forest creep instead of the chained-up creep that’s behind you ’ into something positive.

Yeah, that would go over swimmingly.

But he refused to leave his friend now that he’d found her again.

The palace guards met them halfway down the Elves’ Village. Sunny’s chains were exchanged between soldiers like the most unwanted pass the package in Fairy Land history. Apparently Roland’s discrimination to the lower fae weren’t exclusively his own.

Though most weren’t as ‘free-spoken’ about it.

Turning his head to the side, Sunny did a double take – then a triple take to be sure – when Mayor Buglebloom, the Elf village’s chieftain, came walking towards them. Usually the blue-bearded chap was seen running to and fo from hut to house, joking that he barely had time to let the ink in his dairy dry before another thing called for his attention.

Mister Buglebloom, or Uncle Bugle as some of the kids called him, wasn’t smiling at anyone. He was also wearing the shining chain of semi-precious stones over his waistcoat, only worn to especially important meetings with the Kingdom’s sole ruler.

“This isn’t good.”Pare whispered out of the corner of his mouth, Sunny could only give a solemn nod in reply.

“Hello there…official elf. “ Roland barely took care in addressing him formally. This wasn’t just another little guy in a sea of crowds he could talk down to. Mayor Buglebloom nodded his head in salute, and waved at the small group of advisors that trailed behind him.

“General, I received a missive that my presence at the palace was requested? “

“Really? Whoa, that’s ah…really not necessary but…“ His voice rose in heroic projection, “A great King should always have time to speak with the littler folk. Please just, er follow me. “

  
Up until the palace gates the whole progression looked to be a fun parade, children rubbing sleepy eyes as they watched from bedroom windows and running along its length in their sleeping frocks.

The elves holding royal banners tickled off in pairs, leaving only the General Roland with his remaining soldiers.

Pare and Lizzie were refrained from entering the stone castle, left to stand outside in the morning sun as their friend got marched in.  
  
It was common knowledge that elves had some of the sharpest of senses in any realm. This fact was proven further when - as Sunny was frog-marched into the throne room- he overheard a hushed conversation between Roland and his three goons, whether they were fit enough to listen or not.

Of course it didn’t take a highly intelligent, matchmaking strategist to know that the whole fiasco would undoubtedly be put on his shoulders – if Roland had his way – leaving the elf questioning what on Earth had possessed him to even trust the two-faced half-troll to begin with.

And there was The Fairy King, walking towards them with a murderous expression that was fixed solely on Sunny. The man’s walk turned into a stumbling run when he spotted his daughter, and Sunny struggled to get out a plea of regret. The cuffs were jerked up crudely so his wrist and shoulders shouted a litany of pain.

When the ache passed he glanced up at the soldier gripping his chain. From behind the polished visor the fae smirked and jangled the links like a warning; _don’t even think about it._

Even Dawn was hushed up in a callous manner. Though they tried to be gentle, but the princess struggled too much for them to usher her quietly into a chamber

“Dawn…my darling girl.”

The King had reached their party in small bursts of flight, his considerable waist weighting him down. The fairies made room for the father to hold his youngest, who melted into the embrace only to wiggle free and jitter on the spot.

  
“Daddy! Daddy I met him, I met my Love! But he gave me away Daddy, so I could come tell you. I can’t stay long, he has to be worried- “

“-…what?”

“Aren’t you happy? We all thought Marianne was going to get married first, but I think that traditions’ an old socks’ tale anyway, oh I have SO much to PLAN!”

Hands on her shoulders to keep her from floating off immediately the King looked from face to face, waiting for an answer. It was Roland who stepped up and solemnly spoke up, “I’m afraid the potion’s effects are stronger than we’d hoped your majesty.”

“So she’s…under a spell? For how long? Can- can it be broken?”

“I-…”He faltered, scratching the back of his neck, “I…don’t know Highness. There was little time; we barely got out with our skin.”

Then he noticed that they were one short.

His knuckles clenched around the youngest heir; deaf to her quiet complaint the king’s breath got noticeably shallow as he just barely got out the enviable question. He already knew the answer, but he had to know. Had to be certain that his daughter hadn’t just flown off to do as she wished, as long as she wanted.

  
“Where is Marianne?”

The silence that followed could be sliced with a dull claymore. It could have been severed with a blade of grass. Sunny drew himself up to speak, only to have someone step on his toes.

“That’s…that’s best discussed in private. Is there a room? “

  
“Roland, I order you to tell me where she is. I know you and her have your differences, but this is not the time for games.”

“She’s…still in the forest. “

“She’s-what **_HOW_**.“- “Oh but Daddy he would never hurt her though! He wouldn’t dare because he loves me, daddy! He loves me! And I do him.”

  
People were starting to notice the commotion, stalling in their chores and watching their king loose his fuse over something to do with their princess.

_‘Wouldn’t’ be the first time. ‘_

_‘Though why do you think they need that many knights? ‘_

_‘ What’s going on? ‘_

_‘Where’s the princess? ‘_

_‘Why is her highness not here? ‘_

“My study, _now_...” Crushing Dawn to his armored chest for a brief moment more the King then let a maid gently take the princess back towards the sleeping quarters. The injured triplets were ushered into an infirmary to treat their bruises and rest.

The King motioned them all - the Elf ambassadors’, Roland and his two soldiers holding Sunny, - to walk through another hallway. This led to a spacious study where long ago councils of war had been held. Now it only served as an informal conference chamber, used for monthly meetings and, when the act called for it, an interview room for interrogations.

Although his vantage point may have been better at the top of the stairs, Sunny had to strain against his chains to watch as some fairy handmaidens had to bodily maneuver the princess into her room. A soldier lingered behind after a whisper from Roland; no matter how he perked his ears he hadn’t been able to pick it out of the general noises.  
But he did hear what was conversed next.

“Send for the armory, we may need to get the Grounder if she persists in escaping. “ He’d heard a guard whisper fiercely at one of the maids. The handmaiden’s pixies gave a melodious cry, cowering behind their owners blue wings.

“Don’t you think that’s a little overzealous-?”- “Orders from the General, miss. Do it or she’ll get shackles.”

Before he could even let the shock wash through him, the doors opened to the conference hall and slammed close behind him.

 

* * *

  
It didn’t take a long time before a decision was made.

That was if you didn’t pay attention to the first half hour being a shouting match between the King and Sunny – although he wasn’t so much heard as being told to shut up – various advisors giving their two cents about the matter and Roland trying to interrupt with his daring tales of his travels into the Dark Forest and all the horrors he’d encountered.

“...And then when I thought everything was going to end well, the criminal doused the poor princess’s with the potion and left her in the state she is. I have no doubt that he’s done the same with her sister; now in his evil clutches. I wish…I wish I’d done something –“- Roland gasped and let his head fall into his cupped hands.

The King patted his shoulder consolingly; looking upon him like a father would a son, instead of a liege upon his general.

“You couldn’t have known what he was thinking Roland. I don’t blame you for this happening…”

The fatherly expression dropped completely when he turned back to Sunny; making the elf shiver a little in the creaky stool he’d been given.

But then someone spoke up about some detail or other, and the whole arguing started up all over again. It had taken some time before someone had let Sunny even speak up and give his own testimony, only to get talked over when those subjects flowed into different ones, all until it all tangled in a rat’s nest of half-speculated ideas and unfinished thoughts. You needed special glasses to see the original thread, and only then you still had to squint.

In all of this the King had only sat with his head in his hands, worry lining his posture. The anger seemed to have been completely drained after he’d said his piece.

“Princess Dawn is in hysterics, your majesty. What do we know about this Love Potion the Bog King posses’? Surely he has the antidote? “The man on his left suggested tentatively.

“ _Asking_ for an antidote while he has the heir as protection against anything we think up? Seems like a hefty favor. “Another scoffed.

“Yes of course, but have we any other options? Was there word of a ransom, sir Roland?”

“What could he want, besides a war against the kingdom?” The same man interrupted, “There hasn’t been one for two hundred years. Why break that record over the loss of the Eldest Princess?”

“Are you completely off your toadstool?! This is the _princess_ we’re talking about.”

“If you bother to listen you would agree with me, without a ransom note or message or even declaration by the King himself we have no evidence she still lives!”

He waved a hand towards the door; adjusting his blue robes neatly.  
“We still have another Princess rescued. Be-spelled or not, the royal line can be continued.”

“Princess Dawn might be under a spell but there has to be a cure. Its magic; there is no limit to what can be done.”

“The Sugar Plum fairy knows.” Sunny piped up.

Even as small and used to ridicule as he was, suddenly being the focus of a dozen pairs of eyes wasn’t what he’d intended to happen. Or the thick silence that followed. There wasn’t even a cricket to break it into an awkward one.

“She made it; she has to know the antidote right?”

The same man, Minister Twopence, who expressed his earlier doubt on the livelihood of Marianne, leaned towards him with an incredulous expression.

“And how do you propose we have her make it? Hmm? “  
Roland was all too happy to fill in the blanks, preferably with some cock-and-bull.

“Maybe we can knock on the gate and ask ‘ _Hey neighbor, don’t suppose you have a cup of anti-Love Potion lying around gathering dust do you?’_ Oh yeah that would over just fine.”

  
Small chuckles circled the assembly, abating only after their liege waved his hand to stop.

  
“It’s…it’s worth a try right? She can’t be the only sprite capable of potions in the Kingdom?”

The rest of the small jury didn’t comment, some leaning on the long table to converse with colleges, other’s muttering into their notaries. All on high chairs that made him feel even smaller than he was. And Roland kept doing that pinching finger thing too. He didn’t like to know what the man was imagining doing to him.

At long last the gurgling silence was broken by his chieftain, who puffed up to appear his tallest.   
“I still think imprisonment is too high a punishment for…for”- “For acts against the crown? Think about it man! “

It went from bad to worse, and most of all, no-one had asked him for his thoughts. Or, they had and been interrupted by the King’s favorite.

Working up a good steam and having all attention on him seemed to be the only place Roland ever wanted to be. The guys’ narcissus streak ran a few miles around the earth, with stops and loops.

“This little, err guy stole the Love Potion in order to bewitch the young princess, no doubt wanting her to quell his jealous rage…”- A murmur of doubt passed between councilors, adjusting spectacles and squinting down at him, one even mouthed ‘I just don’t see it, do you believe it?’

“…And probably to get the crown too!“

Face hot and no doubt redder than his headband Sunny cried out loud enough in the sudden quiet for it to echo.   
“Don’t try to make me like you! Marianne had your number from the start. Your majesty, if I could just speak-“

“Silence! “

The inkwell wobbled on the table, shaken by the king’s fist slamming down in his sudden impatience.  
“Now, Sunny I will ask you once more and no interruptions.” It almost looked like Roland had yet another thing to add onto his alibi, but thought better of it when the King threw him a look.

“I hadn’t, - I hadn’t meant to get it!”

“But you have and as I recall – that responsibility is solely yours. Now, while I have no inkling how things are done in the Dark Forest- and I have little time and intention to find out!-” Sunny jumped from his seat, forgetting the guards with the chains next to him in his haste to get the words out;

“I went there, I know the way I can get there- “– “I’ll have no-one entering that place!”

“Your majesty…” An even older and frailer looking fairy set down a quill and folded his hands in dahlia colored sleeves,”-… I advise you to not make any rash decisions before we have heard word of the Bog King.”

  
“We could send an ambassador?”

“He would be chased out by hordes; if I’m to let anyone go they would be equipped and armed to the teeth.”

“I can go, with my men-“- “Like the last time? No offence general but let’s leave the declarations of war to the _King_. “

  
The King, loosing what fire he had, grimaced from the bickering coming from all sides, paling further when the orange robed advisor ( familiar looking man too, Sunny thought) leant towards him and whispered something. “- , the Bog King may be our only chance at getting the princess back safely and alive…”

The words were half drowned out by the by now shouting Roland who was trying to use his height and volume to gain followers. The smirk was slipping quickly now, and the downturned expression made his handsome face twisted and filled with venom.

“Your majesty, perhaps we shouldn’t let emotions dictate our judgments just yet…I recall a time where such a decision ended up costing us more than good soldiers…”

  
The advisor stared long and hard at the king, who blanched and seemed to suppress a great shudder. Even as he schooled his features into something more neutral, you could still see the sadness hiding behind the King’s stoic face. “-There is still a story we haven’t heard.” The man continued under his breath.

“Roland, I appreciate what you intent to do but…these are my daughters. Both of them are very precious to me. I can’t decide as rashly as I did last night. “

Sunny felt a spark of recognition flare up followed by some belated gratitude; this was Sir Gorsepetal, a fairy advisor closest to the King, any decision the King had made since his employment were sound, logical and had kept the barrier between personal bias’ and politics’. Although a soft spoken man, there was a definite prickliness when his long fuse ran out.

With him on Sunny’s case, the worst punishment would be community sentence. He hoped.

“Have we any news from the Dark Forest?”- He directed to a footman in livery, who jumped a quick salute before hurrying a reply, “N-no sire. We have sent a scout with your royal pardon, but …”

‘But’ nothing’s been heard of him since.

Sighing, the King straightened in his chair.

“Keep sending them, if we haven’t heard word yet by tomorrow night…I will consider taking an escort to meet the Bog King.” When he rose from his seat the jury did as well, bowing when he circled the table to stand in front of it himself.

”And Roland...I will need you to handpick your best men. Be prepared for anything. But await my order. This is a delicate situation; I can’t have anyone rushing off into that place again.”

“As for you…Sunny.”

Apparently it was still in him to shrink down even more.

“I am placing you under house arrest…until further notice.”

* * *

 

  
“I will not permit it. “

Outrage at their King’s final verdict rose up in the hollow and shook the very walls until dirt crumbled down between their ears. Claws clenched and tails whipped aggressively, and from disorder came their complaint.

“Law! Law! Law cannot be undone! “

“It came here, it crossed the border. The Order says what come next; you as King should will it too!”

   
“I will **NOT** _PERMIT IT_.” Goblins were good at roaring and screeching and snarling, but none could surpass a righteous bellow like the Bog King himself. It was his lineage, his birthright.

  
“There are laws in dealing with trespassers’. Old laws, _sound_ laws. They helped shape us and your kingdom. What difference does one pesky flighty pest make to us? “ A squashed toad-like goblin sneered, comically thin arms with even thinner claws gesturing with barely contained irritation.

  
“As these laws are, it is the King that passes judgment. Last time I checked, that person was me. “

  
“When I became your King, - “ Bog started when the ruckus had died down, “- certain circumstances forced me to re-enforce the law my forefathers instated. That is all. I will not bend them, but the game has changed.”

  
“And what of the little devil? From witness’ I hear you let them go, _willingly_?!”

  
“At the time it was more important to get that oaf with his army back across the border, I’ll deal with him presently.”

  
It was truly a Goblin’s trait to be as ferocious in life as in politics.

  
Assembling the courts on such shorthanded notice was by no means easy, but the commotion of having a fairy army stomp around their kingdom in the dead of night was sure to raise some attention.

  
For all its wild and open economy, the Goblin court liked to believe they were aristocratic. How anyone could look regal in a moldy bat pelt was a mystery, but it was more the strut than it was the look.

  
Though for his own court in the Dark Forest there was a minority in clothing; many preferred a thick protective layer of dirt the height of fashion. Except his mother, who wore new leaves every season like their air-headed, flighty neighbors.

  
This made it no way simpler in ruling his lands with equal measure, though it helped to have officials from the very corners doing their part. Gods knew how it was done before the mushrooms in those days.

  
Waxing nostalgic to simpler times – where you could just hack off any intruder without it getting all political – was useless. The Bog King had enough on his plate as it was. And right now it took a lot of intimidation to dissuade any stray creature into taking matters into own hands. Who had the fabulous idea of a joined justice system was ahead of their time, but now he could only be grateful for the power it lends.

  
Were it not for that, he’d be dead several times over and his castle run by old busybody’s playing judge.

  
“So we have no lie-way?

“We have their Princess!” A wheedling voice rang out, gathering nods and filthy grins from their group. “We have a fae! “

An echoing clang from his scepter, the Goblin heir clicked wicked fingernails against the petrified surface. - “Her highness isnae’ here to be gobbled on by every cretin that happens to snatch her first…we can use her.”

“But not for feasting? “

“What we have,..is insurance.” 

* * *

 

“Sire?...”

“Yes…”

“There was a message from The Dark Forest, sire. “

_“Thank the stars_.” He sighed under his breath.

The King took the scroll from the soldier, who bowed and retreated back to stand guard a respectable distance away.

After a while the Fairy King straightened and threw the soldier a glare.

“Leave me.”

Looking concerned the valet closed the doors and left their sovereign in peace and quiet.

Finally alone, the king slumped down into his chair. A few beats later he took off his crown and rubbed his face in his hands.

Quietly he began to weep.

_To his Majesty King Dagda of Light Fields,_   
_In Response to the Acte of Transgression against His Highness Boggart King,_

  
_The Princess Royal the Firste has been Taken as Guaranty to dissuade further Trespass and Ensure any further Offense made by All citizens of The Faeiry Kingdom_

_Any further attempts at entering without His Majesty’s approval will be taken as a Acte of War_   
_Her Royal highness will remain To ensure the Kingdom’s compliance_   
_Provided there are No further Encroachments into the Darke Foreste,There will come No harm To her Highness,_

  
_Do Not Attempt To Establish Contact other Than by Messager,_

_His Royal Highness of The Darke Foreste,_   
_The Bog King,_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dramatic sigh* You guys have no idea how difficult it is to write this. I'm cackling and cringing at turns, its so strange. Reviews and comments are what a writer likes!!!!


	3. Ballad's, Broths and Broody Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer ate the would-be chapter for this story, so now while you guys wait ever so patiently I have to go write the whole damn thing again. Many apologies for the hiatus; life happened and it didn't slow down nothin'.

He heard her singing from the throne room. 

It had been torture enough when the Beast had ‘ _graced_ them with her heart-moving ballads. 

The Bog King cursed the same thing that used to echoe his shouts and roars through the cavernous palace; now only serving to irritate him with the sounds reaching from down below . 

 

Now once again his palace was an intricate and hellish trap.  Like the inside of a snail's house, the halls led the noises from the very tree roots into his ears, filling them with soft and melancholy melodies . 

The song was different from what she'd sung first. No blasting volume, no victorious determination. No screeching threats and smirking banter through bared teeth. 

No soft confession of something magical, something strange - and false- sneered a voice rising from beneath ages of dust and pain and distrust . 

(No, this was far worst. ) 

 

The Bog King slouched further down on his skeleton throne, head low and with his knuckles digging into his brow . There was too much to even begin to plan.The Fairy Kingdom might not take his bluff for long; he had hope that having the eldest princess in his clutches would buy him some time at least . He needed to think.

 

Needed time to put everything in perspective once again. His body felt riddled with fatigue and pockmarked with aches he’d not felt for a long while. 

When was the last time he’d slept? Even before the mushrooms brought news of a trespassing elf , The Bog King had kept vigil days in advance. The looming blooms-day of the primroses was like a ever present wound. 

He’d gone out himself to look for the elf, circling the edges of the castle like a vulture scenting out prey. It must have been hours since his last meal, even before he went to hunt down the little thief. His stomach churned with the thought; sick with hunger and yet losing his appetite. 

 

So far everything he did was depleting what borrowed energy he had left after nights patrolling the borders, making sure there were no blooming Primroses for anyone to steal .

 

Not that they could taken for a Love Potion; with Aura in his magicked cage and guards keeping a watchful eye on every entrance .The fact that it had all happened regardless of these precautions would make a lesser man laugh with irony and hysterics .He had to be more careful, there had to be an element that he kept missing. How did the elf even know how to find the weak spots in his castle? How had he known the unguarded crevices, the break in patrol? How had he KNOWN?

Enraged by the insolence had given him little fight; exhausted ever since Bog had chased down the bothersome Sugar Plum fairy .

Hate was a powerful thing to motivate one, and yet he felt the last vestiges dredge away as he sat.

 

Ruling the Dark Forest meant constant vigilance.  And with subjects with half a brain between them he should have gotten used to going without slumber due some mishap that none but him could right . 

Some stray goblins waddled past the throne room's entrance, paws and hands raised over their ears against the singing.The reminder brought on a fresh wave of sufferance ; fairy voices could reach a pitch that was agony to goblins . 

Inducing ringing aches in the head; the fact that he wasn’t stuffing his own ears was  probably  making matters worse . Stupid, of course. 

This was nothing like the confident, aggressive fairy princess of that night, this was something sad and broken and _by Balar why it didn’t stop stop stop stop please-_

“…-Yer majesty?” 

“WHAT? “ 

Stuff wobbled on her feet before straightening, her scrape goat of a partner nowhere in sight.

 

He'd begun to notice their squabbble about who was to deliver the news to him. A never-ending argument -usually Thang, despite messing it up royally, too much wax in his ears - and saw a banter that might’ve made him laugh someday...

 "Ahem...s-sire?"

 

The she-goblin was fidgeting with the webbing between her fingers, peering up at the Bog King's distracted nature . He waved a hand to let her carry on; what should he care where his subjects lurked when he didn't need them.

  

“It has been a while, and your mother advises you to bring your princess-the prisoner-“- At his growl she hesitated, before swallowing and continuing her message . –“some meal of sorts.”

  

Griselda.

 Forever meddling with his duties; endless attempts to find him a bride and feigning nonchalance when she managed to sabotage him . She was a constant thorn in his side, as mothers are wont to be.

 Groaning with the memory of how she undid hard honest work with some ‘innocent’ quip about his parentage  .  The Goblin Council bore her to an extent, but he had a feeling that they wouldn't take her side when it came to the fairy princess . It was high time she understood it was none of her business.  

He needed no help from her to deal with his _affairs_.

For all intents and purposes, he hadn’t bothered to think past locking the Princess away and letting her  slowly  rot . A far too gentle punishment for the whole catastrophe – wait.

 

“My mother advises _me_ to bring- You forget that I am **King** , and any order I give surpasses her _suggestions_ , Stuff. Find something edible for her and leave me be, I have no time to - “

 “You’re going to let her starve to death before heartbreak does? I thought I’d taught you better manners! “

 

Tiny, bushy haired and beady eyed, with  just  a quarter of his size Griselda was never an as formidable character like himself .Yet there she stood with all the fierceness of creaky old toadstool; she imagined herself to be someone you would not want to cross .(Someone like him, who could paralyze with a glare and well practiced creak of armor. )

 

That was, at least always his excuse.  The glare she used on him might’ve been live coals for their intensity; she trotted right up to him and planted her fists on her hips .A stance that used to instill his boyhood self with fear, as his father was never far behind with his own displine...

 

Thankfully , that trick wore off around the same time he grew out his wings.

 

“That sweet thing is alone and hungry, young goblin, and it’s your duty as king to look after your subjects. Even a prisoner of war – and No word against it! You’re going to take care of her, I say! Not stuff her away like some- some unwanted critter. Now “-

 

The goblin mother shoved at his legs until he stood; irritation pouring from him and evident in his posture .She was the King's mother, yes. Though that did not in any way give her free range to order him around. 

Though...She did posses some wisdom in that gossipy, matchmaker head of hers. 

Even as Griselda continued to prod him in the direction of the dungeon she held up a relentless chatter. 

 

-" and I spend ages trying to find some good quality nectar, she's got to be thirsty! 'Think Brutus was the one who suggested catching fresh water fiddles, poor dear doesn’t know what a fairy needs.-"

  

Getting to the bottom of the stairs the Bog King dug his heels until he ground to a stop. The long hallway to the cells looked ominous.  Here and there soft noises of distress floated from the cages, silencing when Bog stomped down the stairs with his mother in tow . 

If he wasn’t so certain that separating the love-dusted idiots was for the best (the less tomfoolery and chaos the better) he might’ve felt like the atmosphere was affecting him .

 

He arched one shoulder with a crackle; this was his domain, fearing it was foolish.

 

Still talking his mother eased around his long calves and picked up a tray laden with leafy things and some small bowls . 

 

They _reeked_ of sweetness.

 

"You take it." -"Can't do that dearie, she's not my prisoner."

 

Bog's eye twitched.

  

"I cannot' deal wi'this now.”

 His usual growl was too low to carry through the stagnant space between them; though there was enough malice to keep Griselda from thinking he was losing his touch .

  

"Oh? Like you have more important things to do but sulk and brood and stare at the wall for all eternity-"

  

"Ah d'not _sulk_."

  

"Or  blindly  denying that you're all twitter pattered-”

  

_What does that even mean?_

  

"Or how the one chance you have at happiness is under the impression you hate-"

  

-"Fine! "

 He all but slapped the tray from her grip. Eyes trained on the path before him Bog ignored her triumphant expression and made for the cel doors.

  

“If it makes you stop prattling, I’ll see to it myself.”

  

"Good lad. Tell her I'll come by soon for a chat! Ta! "

  

His snarled reply echoed in the following silence, broken only by the soft singing.  That too ended when he dropped his staff against the doorframe, the metal twanging  faintly .

 

Bog opened the flimsy door separating the chamber from the hall,  fully  expecting to  be bombarded  with shouts . Or at least some violent spew of profanities.

 

But Marianne stood silent and faced him straight on, her expression tight and unforgiving .

  

She looked as fierce as the last time he’d laid eyes on her. Even behind thorny bars she was royal and imposing.  Her eyes especially, that not so long ago met his with warmth, were now bitter and took in his presence like he was a particular nasty bug under her foot .

 

Tension filled the awkward silence, and as he shuffled on his feet her frown deepened and her chin lifted a fraction .

  

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to throw myself at you…”

  

Flinching at her tone the goblin king sneered before turning back and closing the door. (Less he feel tempted to turn and leave without looking her in the eye.)

Walking away would not make this easier. He only had to give her the  positively  sickly sweet foodstuff and that was _it._

  

Bog turned to face her again, rising to his full height in a bid to show her how small she  truly  was. How there was no illusion, no truth where she once had a right to be familiar with him.

  

“You’re  just  going to stand there all day?” 

 

At a loss he lifted the tray, biting the inside of his cheek at the scent. - “I- I brought food. “ And made no move to give it to her. The hesitation worsened the situation and her mood.

  

“That’s very kind.” Her tone implied she found it anything but.

  

"You might express a bit of gratitude, _Princess_. Be glad I'm taking it upon myself to ensure you don't die on me before I have time to send a message to your kingdom.” The threat fell flat, but he could see her eyeing the tray with something close to longing.

  

“I'd rather eat my own boots.”

  

"Yeh' want to starve?-“ He threw a thumb over his shoulder, -“I can think of  a number of  unfortunate souls who would like some of this... meal  ."  Though besides the green-winged fairy the Bog King had no idea or intention to find out what the Love-inflicted fools took for food .

  

“No thanks.”

  

"You will die within a week's time." There was no threat in his tone, only fact.

 

Hers mimiced his in both tone and delivery, "That's if - _and only if! -_ I let you keep me here. I've seen enough of this dump to find my way out."

  

"Even if you could escape this place, I'll make it my sole existence to ensure you never find your way back. There's a rumor going 'round. Something about how fairies need plenty of sunlight. Or else they’ll perish." 

He didn't think it was true. But there were times in the past, goblins finding bodies of cold, lifeless fae. Bleached completely of colors, their wings so fragile a mere wisp of breath turned them to dust. 

Her fists clenched as she crossed them and - because he avoided eye contact like black rot- saw her shudder in phantom chill .

  

Hmm. So there was some fear in her after all?

  

Feigning boredom Bog picked at the tray and twirled one of the items between his long fingers. It appeared to be…a leaf? Or a petal from a particularly dull colored bloom.  

With his eyes averted, he missed the way her throat worked  thirstily .

“-But that would only end in me having to wage a troublesome war against the fairy kingdom, and while there are a number of matters I would like to extract revenge on..." He shrugged one shoulder, "I’d much rather not at the moment.”

 

The smirk he sent her way only fuled her spark.

 

“What use do you have keeping me here?” 

 

“I was under the impression I will only strike a deal with the King. Not your _fiancé_. Not _you_. If his highness' compliance  is assured  , _then_ I’ll talk. “

 

“So you’ll let me rot while my father prepares for a civil war?” 

 

“Well no, I’m letting you spend eternity imprisoned while they’re having a tiff trying to negotiate. Won’t work, m’afraid. Oh dear I’ve spoilt it.” And he flicked away the shredded green, picking up another with the same treatment in mind. 

 

Marianne sputtered for a beat, rearing up for what  surely  would be another threat to his life, but he interupted her again .“See it this way princess. I need a new approach to keeping all that lot in your kingdom and away from mine. I’m working without script here; you’ll have to be patient.”

 

“I thought all you cared about was getting that potion; now you’ve gotten what you stamped and whined for, Dawn’s safe and well out of your way ! Too bad about her not having an antidote though…which is your fault by the way." 

 

The petal reduced to a soggy pulp in his fist.Bog dropped it without a word but tightened his grip on the tray. It was petty and not a grown goblins way to respond with ‘No it isn’t‘ and have her reply with ‘Yes it is’. It would be pointless and childish.

 

Rather he fixed his gaze on her, anticipating what must be a ‘staggering’ blow to his ego following next.

 

"And here I thought you would be different, ‘ _Oh, this one doesn't need me to knock some brains into him every five minutes'_ .  I can’t say I’m surprised you’re keeping me here, but holding a grudge against someone who’s never crossed you before in her life ? You’re out of your mind!“ 

 

Teeth grinding with a crunch Bog flung the tray away and quite  nearly  missed splattering it all over the floor . 

It scraped  innocently  on a wooden niche carved in the wall and remained out of reach as he slammed a fist against the bars above her head . 

 

“Might I remind you that it was her little ‘friend’ that stole from me? Trespassed in my domain and released a captive of mine? Be glad that I hadn’t taken his head with yours when I got the chance."Then he lowered his voice to a growl, leaning down from impressive height to lock eyes with her. 

"It's obvious having only guards won't scare you off...  maybe  a few heads on spikes lining the border will drive the warning into those thick skulls .”

 

Shock flashed over her face and held her  momentarily  still; he only  just  managed to whisper the next words, “Sound familiar  ?  Though if memory serves it’s not uncommon for your sort to have similar punishments for acts against the crown .”

 

Shrieking, Marianne’s arm shot out to deck him in the face; only for his hand to close around her wrist in a grip too hard, too furious for it to shake . 

“Ah ah ah!, not so hasty princess.” Bog leant even closer as he pulled her arm through the bars; their faces inches apart. 

 

"Remember that you’re in the presence of a _**King** _ and any insolent behavior will rebuff  badly .”

 

“I thought you were different.”

 

He recoiled like stung, shoulders flaring out in a shudder that was not completely out of surprise . The expression on her face made his insides grow cold with dread.

 “From what, pray?” 

 

She bared her teeth with a harsh breath, looking close to tears with those  unnaturally  large eyes. 

He could read it there.

 

_Different_ from that pompous fairy of a fool, the one that dared to invade his castle when his back  was turned .

 

_Different_ than the horrid- and often times stretching of the truth - tales of the Dark Forest’s denizens.

 

_Different_ from all the people in her kingdom that tried to put her in a box, piecemeal her into something for their own convenience . 

 

It wasn’t something he thought about, worrying how the future ruler of a neighboring kingdom and what kind of impression he made wasn’t something that kept him from sleeping at night .The lost cause of a better understanding hovered on the edge of a knife; make or break a treaty, align the kingdoms, end all fear…

 

Shaking his head from the busy turmoil taking place Bog snorted. –Like he was going to believe anything she said now.

 

_But_ , whispered a tiny, cornered part of him.

 

_Maybe she is telling the truth?_ Maybe  she’s been telling him the truth, time and time again. There were no lies in her expression, no falsehood in her touch. 

 

**She could have been lying from the start** , Sneered he, convinced that his mind was only this gullible from lack of sleep, of rest, of peace .

 

_Maybe she isn’t_? It pressed.

 

The part that wanted so  badly  to let his guard down and be brave in the face of his own fear.That she is speaking the truth and this is  just  one huge,  untimely  miscommunication?

  

“I hated you. I wanted- I wanted to kill you for what you did. To Dawn. To the Sugar Plum Fairy.” 

 

Old news to his ears.  Everyone feared him, every creature in the Dark Forest knew of his reputation and those that crossed him ended up silenced for good .Or in the very place the two of them were having this …this conversation that seemed to have no set order or train of thought .

 

“Back then…I didn’t know things. About you, and I do now…I understand now…and I hate it. “

 

In that short span of seconds he understood her hatred. Bog agreed and he returned the sentiment with a hot flash that embarrassed him for its treachery.

He despised how she knew why he’d banned that wretched sprite’s concoction. For the pain it had brought him. For the humiliation. For the realization that Love was never meant for him in any shape or form.

 

And yet…

 

Somewhere in the night they’d come together like broken pieces of the same thing, all snapped strings and shattered dreams . Found kinship in the hurt, the unwillingness to allow anyone or anything that close again.

 

“And now…? I can’t imagine your head being that  easily  turned.”

 

And by God did she  just  snarl at him?  Maybe  fairies weren’t all that dim and airheaded; if so then he had encountered the one that fell short of the norm.

 

“I thought…-I thought you would understand - .”

 

“As I did you.” 

 

There it was. A fine crack in his mask, the weak chink in his posture.

 

“I’m not lying, Bog!How can you be so- so thick you can’t see that?”

 

“Because all that fairies do is _pretend_ ; at least I keep my expectations realistic.”

 

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Marianne muttered to herself, lost in thoughts of things that made no sense to anyone, not even her .

 

“ Stubborn, prejudiced piece of Goblin- “ Growling, she grabbed onto the one thing sure enough a get a rise out of him, jangling the bars that he didn’t even twitch at.

 

“IDIOT!  Hiding out in the dark, playing evil warlord, while you’re nothing but a scared little _boy_ afraid of things that don’t matter, things unimportant people say about you ! _‘The Mighty Bog King_ ’, PAH! All it takes is one crack about your face and you wilt like an uprooted weed!”

 

His attention snapped forward, never wavering from her even when she turned her back to him, her voice rebounding off the walls with every breath .

 

“Would it kill you to have some self-respect?” Marianne threw over her shoulder, one amber eye pining him to the ground, accusing him with her glare.The quietness in her voice gave way to the hard edges that bit into each word.

 

Bog shook his head in disgust, backing away and unable to meet her cruel gaze any longer. What did she know of who he was or wasn’t? What did any of them know about the Dark Forest’s reining tyrant? 

 

"Bog, please." He could take her fury, but he would not take her pity.

 

Spinning his back to the enraged fairy, his lips began moving long before he had time to  fully  collect his thoughts, matching her word for word,“You make it sound like I’m some poor unfortunate creature begging for sympathy…Rest assured I’m not.” – “You’re acting out like a child, stuffing me away after all the trouble of keeping me here.”

 

“I’ve got you right where I want, _princess_. “ 

He turned back halfway, showing her his striking profile, long nose and sharp jaw molding into a condescending smirk towards her enflamed temper, waving his hand  dismissively  when she went to respond .

 

“Plum wasn’t wrong you know, but I guess she hasn’t gotten the memo. You’re  just  as impetuous as before, twice as foolish.”

 

She scoffed, and  maybe  it was the calculated silence that followed before her next jab, or something in the tension that shifted, but Bog knew the next thing that came out her mouth was not half as complimentary . 

“ _Men_. All you need is a sob story and the whole world excuses your antics. God, how didn’t I see it, you’re acting like _him_. But **why...?!**. “ 

As if he could sense the following line, he spoke exactly the thing she had hoped to cut him down with, matching the venom with a taste of his own.“If only you listene- “-“D’ NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT-“

 

Marianne felt her stomach clench, not  just  to hear reverberating voice, but also because she knew that tone  . That look. That quiver he tried so  diligently  to smother behind layers of anger and bitterness.

 

“ _d’not..compare me with yo’r lying, thieving ilk_ -“ His wings rattled before flaring out, something defensive like how he ducked his head and hunched his back . “ Don’t lie to me,. . . Marianne,-” 

 

Bracing her hands on the bars, she ignored the thorns that scraped into her skin, gentling her tone and her features . 

“I’m- **I’m** not _I swear it_ Bog. But…you can’t expect me to agree with this…I know you wouldn’t do this…” –

 

“If you know me so well, care to explain why I find it so difficult to belief such lame excuse.- “

 

-“I’m not lying”-

 

“Fairies are all the same. Nothing’s sweeter than the untruth. And nothing… _nothing_ was **real**.”

The last words died off, and it was his posture that did it.  He thought every moment was her lying  desperately  through her teeth, stalling, using him for her own goals .

 

It was enough to raise another screech from the bowels of her soul,  rightfully  enraged for the unknown comparison . 

 

“You prejudiced ASS! You meet two of our kin and already you think you’ve got us all figured out, don’t you?  Well, I’m sorry to disappoint that I don’t lower myself to your stereotype, though as prejudices’ go, Goblins sure have a nasty streak of going below the belt !” 

 

“Fairies are pompous, filled with glitter and empty promises!” 

 

“Goblins wouldn’t know a bar of soap from a rock!” 

 

“The majority of your people walk on the backs of others like it’s their god given right to be superior.” 

 

“Your people have cannibalistic tendencies!” 

 

“Too much milk and honey makes for a cloying entitled wench!”

 

“You’re all bark and no followup!”

 

“I thought you were different from them!”

 

“You  JUST  said that we’re all airheaded lamebrains!” 

Her voiced reached heights of never before, and he struggled not to follow, deepening his voice with purpose . 

 

“Well Ah’m SORRY for thinking you could shatter that poor, sad thought! Last time I let appearances fool me!” 

 

"You TOO? Am I ‘too hideous’ even for a goblin?!” 

 

“Wha-No!-No I  just  thought you understood and that I was- “ That  definetly  was a pitch. 

 

“What?!” 

 

“That I wasn’t as hideous _to_ you, but I guess that’s a lie too!”

 

 “Of course not!” 

 

“Well , I guess that since we’re both the bane of our species  we might  as well be stuck together for all eternity!” 

 

“GREAT!’Cause as far as options go, you seem to be my only one!” 

 

“ I couldn’t have said it better!” 

 

And oh, there it was.

 

Out on the table for all to see.

 

Again, he turned his back on her, amazed -or horrified- at his own admission in that moment. His hands balled  tightly  at his sides, the tremble down his body growing with each ragged breath he took.

Marianne hardly knew how to respond to that and, for the life of her, could not force her tongue to respond even if she WANTED to .

 

Instead they both stood in their respected corners, he clenching his teeth while she clung tight to her bars .

 

Finally, through many failed attempts to push the words through her teeth, she managed in a hushed voice .

 

“So…even if I was lying…you  really  thought- you knew I didn’t think you were-,”

 

“Don’t say it- “- “You said it yourself Bog King, -“ 

 

Bog turned  sharply  , hand outstretched like he could stop her from saying it, stop her mind from making the realization . His shout interrupted her like something physical, desperate and scrambling for hold. 

“ **Don’t-** “Guttural like a punch to his chest, the word hooked around his throat and seemed to tear out his teeth.-“I say a lot of things, Fairy . But I’m done being foolish, and I’m done with _you_.”

 

She flinched, feeling the blast echo between her ears and down into the soles of her shoes.  Before she knew it he stood  directly  before her, tray locked in his grip and a look upon his face that was downright murderous.”B-Bog ? I... I don’t know what you mean-”

 

“I can keep you away, where you’ll do no harm.  You know too much already, wouldn’t want to have you gossiping my weakness to the whole of Light Fields, weaving a tale with your pretty little mouth about how the ugly goblin king was no match for your wicked deviousness  . I’ll not have it. You’ll  be kept  from harm, and your stay will be comfortable,-” 

Adding the sneer, he shoved the tray at her, “- as comfortable as a dungeon can get, at least.”

He didn’t wait to see if she grabbed a hold of it before releasing, sneering when she fumbled and only managed to save a few items from meeting the ground .

 

“-Bog listen- How can you even- “ “I don’t need you to say it, I already know it! So stay put, princess. It’s going to be a long day for both of us.”

 

The door shuddered when he crashed them shut, both palms braced against the rough grain. The way he leant against them, as if he was trying to keep a flash-flood from sweeping everything away.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened of a lil’ romance, are you?”

 

Eyes snapping, Bog whirled back around to see his mother, along with four or five littler goblins holding trays almost identical to the one he  just  delivered . 

“What-”

 

“Didn’t get it from me, I’ll tell you. Back in the day there wasn’t a stick big enough to hold me off! Now your father, - _there_ ’s a goblin who could turn into a puddle of wet sand if you so much as _smiled_ his way. At least, he got all fuddy-duddy with you ole mum-. “

 

“What. Are. You’ doing?”

 

“Room service! Since they’re not allowed out we hafta bring the food to them! Well, you have to.” 

 

“What? No I duin’t! I am the-“–“King yes we know. But you’re also the only one with these.” And she  boldly  waggled one of his wings before it rattled out of reach, lifting him a few feet away. Hardly affected she waved at the assembled gobs with a wide smirk.

 

“Since you’re the only one who can reach, I’m sure you’ll be as helpful with the rest of them.”

 

Sighing into his palm, Bog prayed his Castle would collapse ontop of him. Just to take him out of his misery.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of starting a poll, to determine the direction of this here fanfic because frankly I've forgotten half of where I was going with this over the years. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Angst, suspence and growly dialogue. Ahh, a gals favorite things.  
> Please do not withhold commentary because like any author, notes feed us.  
> Many Kiss's , see you in the next one!  
> S~


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